


¯\_(ツ)_/¯

by paradoxals5



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rouge Nation, Mission: Impossible 5
Genre: An off-canon sin at that, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Sexual Content, This is a sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxals5/pseuds/paradoxals5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunt still isn't sure why he keeps coming back, especially to this man, of all people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	¯\_(ツ)_/¯

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't know where this came from my mind just spat it out, but enjoy it anyway ;^)

     It honestly made no sense. Why did he kept coming back here? They had done the job, the Syndicate was shut down, and Lane was in prison. End of story. Yet, there was Hunt, again.

     It started practically the same way as it did before, Lane seeming curious of Hunt's presence, but not surprised. Chit chat followed, and they both know Hunt was only making the small talk to hear his voice. What they chose to discuss carried the situation down many different paths, but it all ended up in the same place in the end, a nice cozy cell where the two could safely be alone.

     Hunt was always the one that started it, and he still had no idea why. He grabbed Lane by his nice prison jumpsuit and slammed him up against the nearest wall, burying his face into his neck and biting down hard. Lane let out a quiet sigh and wrapped his arms around him. He combed a hand through Hunt's hair and arched into him when Hunt's arm wrapped around his lower back.

     If any of the others found out this was what Ethan did with his spare time every now and again... God, Benji wouldn't even talk to him anymore, probably. The others wouldn't be too impressed either, he bet, but was this really the kind of thing to think about when rutting against someone? He pulled back and worked on removing the former CIA member's jumper, still rolling his hips into the other man's, even after he got the one-piece outfit down to his hips. Lane simply watched him, bringing his hands up to cup the other man's face. His dark eyes stared hard, and if Hunt met that gaze, he would be trapped in it. So he kept his eyes down on his own hands as he fumbled to unbutton his pants and relieve his erection from the constriction of his pants.

     Lane huffed out another soft noise as Hunt shoved him up tighter against the wall, caging him with his body. He slipped a leg between them and started to rut against the other man again, grabbing his thigh and pulling his leg up. He grabbed his ass shamelessly, and Lane squeaked.

     Grinning at the noise he elicited, Hunt reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bottle of lube, something the security in the prison no longer confiscated, or even asked about anymore. He poured a generous amount onto his fingertips and lathered the digits up. He nuzzled his face into Lane's hands as they went back to petting him, and he slid a slicked up finger inside. Lane let out a gasp, then a moan, but Hunt quickly closed his mouth over the other man's, eating up the noise and taking his free hand and sliding it between their torsos to grab their cocks.

     He stroked their members gingerly, and slipped another finger inside, reveling in the way the smaller man clenched around his scissoring digits. He broke the kiss and planted several more along Solomon's jaw, trailing down his neck and pausing to suckle his throat. Lane hummed at this, and shuddered when Hunt nipped at his collarbone.

     He removed his fingers, after having teased their erections to the point where it was unbearable. He pulled back, taking Solomon with him and onto the floor, pressing a hand onto his chest to keep him down as he knelt down in front of him.

     Feeling the thrum of Lane's heart reminded Hunt of how someone who had proved to be so dangerous, and a threat to entire nations, was a regular human being like everyone else.

     He was nothing now, of course, just a prisoner, sprawled out on the floor and staring hazily up at the same man who caught him.

     This was why Hunt kept coming back. Those dark eyes trapped him, and he gazed back into them, his hands slowly skimming up Lane's legs as he pulled them up and over his shoulders. There was something in those eyes. Something past the lusty fog, their dark color, and spark of power-thirsty madness. Hunt couldn't see it though, couldn't tell what it was, and it bothered him for some reason.

     Lane suddenly rolled his pelvis, nudging his ass against Hunt's hips, and bringing the other man back to the present. One of his hands held onto Hunt's arm, while the other traveled down his own abdomen to grab his cock.

     Giving a thin smirk, Hunt smacked Lane's hand away, grabbed both of his wrists, and pinned them to the floor up next to his head. He dug his fingernails into his soft flesh and harshly thrust in.

     Lane let out a groan that, in comparison to his normally deep and shushed voice, could pass off as a cry. It felt good, like it always did, and Hunt groaned at the delightful heat of the man around him. He pounded into him without a care in the world, taking each gasp and sigh that Lane made as reason to go faster. At this rate, he could fuck him straight into the floor.

     “Talk to me.” Hunt growled in Lane's ear, and he nipped his earlobe, just to hear him yelp.

     And Solomon does talk, but Hunt doesn't pay attention to what he said, he just listened. Listened to Lane's somehow still calm tone, the breaks and quivers in his words when Hunt thrust into him just right, and of course, that gravelly sound to his overall voice. It filled Ethan with a burning pleasure separate from the one he was building already.

     He shut the man up with another kiss, and _god_ , he wished he could drink those noises he made. They would of tasted so sweet. When he broke the kiss, he locked eyes with Lane again. He could feel the tendons in Lane's wrists move under his hands with the need to touch, so Hunt let go, and Solomon's grip was as soft as his pleasured noises, fingers stroking along those well defined cheek bones. He skimmed a thumb across Hunt's lips, and his free hand slid down to grab his cock, again. He had been hard and yearning for touch since long before Hunt had him on the floor, and he bit back another moan as he stroked himself while he took in Hunt's searching gaze.

     Hunt wasn't going to let that happen though, and he seized those needy, hands. He noted the slight burrow in Solomon's brow, but trapped his hands back down, anyway. He lowered himself, muttering into Lane's ear, “You're going to come by me.” And he angled his hips and thrust up and in, brushing his prostate as planned.

     Lane moaned, eyes falling shut. He moved with Hunt's thrusts, wanting so terribly to take care of his own need, but Ethan had full control of this situation, like he did the other times he came to visit.

     He opened his eyes again when he felt Hunt pick himself back up and sit up straight on his knees. He watched him placed small kisses on the insides of his knees and hike him up further over his shoulders. Without any warning besides that, he slammed back into Solomon, hitting his prostate dead on and making him cry out. Hunt smiled at this, and repeated the action, hitting where it counted almost every time.

     Lane clenched around him, cock twitching from both the lack of touch, and the stimulation. Hunt had been ready to finish for a while now, but he tried to hold back, wanting this one fuck to take as long as possible. He wanted to see Lane unravel before him, to see him a mess, begging for release. At least once, he would like to see this man at his most vulnerable.

     But, that would have to wait. Hunt couldn't take it much longer, and he didn't like the idea of coming first, despite who he was fucking.

     A couple more thrusts and passes over his prostate, and Solomon tipped over the edge, moaning deep in his throat. Hunt hit his high while taking in that beautiful sight of the other man's climax. Nothing got him off more than seeing his partners' orgasms, and Lane looked oh-so pretty with his face flushed and body just as rosy in certain parts; chest heaving with every hard breath as his entire form trembled as he came down from the rush.

     Hunt pulled out and sat back, tucking himself away and giving himself a moment to catch his breath. He then grabbed Lane's non-semen covered hand, and pulled him up to sit. Solomon winced at this, and shifted until he got to a comfortable position. Hunt took his dirty hand by the wrist and lifted it up. “I suppose this isn't going to clean itself.” He said, flashing a grin.

     Lane glanced around, probably to find his jumper, and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and snapped his head back when Hunt licked up the back of his hand.

     “I'm surprised you would bother with such a task.” Solomon said, calm as usual.

     Hunt just hummed, suckling a finger clean. “I'm not completely selfish.”

     Lane brought his other hand up and brushed it along Hunt's face. He studied him, or did whatever it was he was doing when he focused on him so intently. “Will you be back?” He asked after his hand had been fully cleaned.

     Hunt licked his lips, keeping his eyes to the floor. “No.” He said, but that was what he said last time, as well as the time before that, and the time before that.


End file.
